


Nice Girls Don't

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adultery, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy Pond is having an affair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Girls Don't

Amy Pond is having an affair. It's the Doctor's fault, she tells herself. If he'd had the guts to put out before she got married then none of them would be in this situation. She feels less guilty than she expected to, whether that's because she's blaming the Doctor or otherwise. Otherwise is worrying. Otherwise suggests that she just might not be a very nice person.

 

If Amy wasn't a nice person then the Doctor wouldn't be shagging her behind Rory's back. The Doctor could never fancy anyone who wasn't deep-down nice, she tells herself. Of course, he wouldn't have an affair with anyone either, so maybe her mental image of him isn't as accurate as she'd like to think.

 

“You like it when we fight over you,” says Rory, and Amy lies and says that she doesn't.

“I don't think I should have to compete for my own wife,” he says.

“Oh, God, are you feeling inferior again?” she says, picking up her brush to get the morning tangles out of her hair.

“If aliens made you have sex with him -”

“Rory, why would aliens make me have sex with the Doctor?”

“But if they did.”

“Which is never going to happen so I don't see why you're even trying to have this conversation.” In the mirror she looks innocent and pure. So she hopes, at least. “What if aliens made _you_ have sex with him?” she asks, slightly more wicked.

“Why would they do that?”

“Maybe they don't like redheads. Maybe they're prejudiced. Or they just really get off on gay porn. Run with it, the details don't matter.”

Finally he laughs. “You're impossible, Amy.”

That's what the Doctor always says, but Amy doesn't mention that. She's allowed to have her secrets, after all.

 

“Amy, don't you think that skirt's a bit... small?” says Rory as they walk down the stairs into the console room.

“Don't be silly, it's fine.”

“Doctor?” asks Rory, looking to the only other man in the room for support.

“She can wear what she wants,” says the Doctor without looking up from the controls.

“I think that's a win for the Doctor,” says Amy. “Which of you is keeping score?”

“Neither of us,” says the Doctor. He looks up at last, and his eyes sweep down the length of Amy's legs. “Blimey. Are you sure about that skirt, Pond?”

Amy rolls her eyes. “Men. You're all the same.”

 

He always makes her take off her wedding ring.

Once she opens the drawer on his bedside cabinet to hide it there and finds a small collection of rings already there.

“What -” she starts, cut off when he reaches over her and closes the drawer smoothly and swiftly.

“I've lived a long time,” he says by way of explanation. That's all she's going to get.

She hates it when he reminds her that she doesn't really know him, so she pretends that nothing happened and drops her ring onto the pile of her clothes that lies on the floor.

 

Eventually he stops telling her that they shouldn't be doing this. She already knows, he doesn't like to repeat himself, it hasn't made any difference so far.

They're in the cupboard under the stairs next to the kitchen, the lights dimming like they respond to his whims (and for all Amy knows, they do). His mouth is on her neck and his hands are lifting her skirt up over her hips. She tangles her fingers in his hair and says his name (which isn't even really his name).

She manages to keep quiet as they move frantically against each other. He's told her every room is soundproofed, but surely that doesn't include storage space? Does he do this sort of thing a lot? It hits her that she's fucking an alien in a room full of mops and buckets, and she laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Adultery and absurdity sort of rhyme.

 

Under the glass floor the Doctor is rubbing his cheek and River has her back to where Amy is standing.

“I'm not a substitute,” says River harshly. “I don't mind you having your other women, but when you're with me you're supposed to be thinking of _me_.”

“I'm not -”

“Don't even think of lying to me when you don't have to.”

“I can't help it. She's under my skin, she's like an infection.”

“Yes, Sweetie, that's called being in love with her.”

Amy gasps too loudly and they look up at her. No one says anything for an achingly long time. Even the Doctor doesn't have words for this, and that's more frightening than any number of monsters.

Finally River looks back at the Doctor and says, “I'll see you when the infection's cleared up.”

 

Adultery, absurdity, ailment. The absurd ailment of adultery, that's what she's going to call it. She lies beneath the Doctor as he tells her how beautiful she is. He doesn't tell her how _good_ she is, but then he hasn't said anything like that for a while now. All his compliments are morally neutral, and that hurts though she can't quite admit it even to herself.

Later she asks him “If you're so nice why are you sleeping with me?”

“Who said I was nice?”

She looks him right in the eye, trusting as ever. “You're the Doctor, of course you're nice.”

“Oh, Amy,” he says quietly. “Oh, Amy.”

He looks suddenly ancient and Amy realises that _of course_ he's done this before. The words are in the air before she can stop them. “How many marriages have you ruined?”

“Including my own?”

She shakes her head, back in control. “No, I don't want to know. I don't care.”

He takes her hand and kisses her palm. “I've never done it alone,” he says, and she pulls her hand away.

 

She hasn't been alone with him for three whole days when he corners her in the kitchen. He appears behind her, mouth at her ear.

“You,” he says, breath hot against her skin, “should be menstruating.”

She spills the milk over the side of the teacup and turns with the carton in her hand. “What are you on about?”

He produces the sonic screwdriver and passes the green light over her. “Never mind, false alarm.”

“Did you just... did you just check if I was pregnant?”

“You're fine, just a bit late. Probably all the stress.”

“Doctor, you've just hit new levels of both weird and creepy.”

“I thought it might be why you're avoiding me.”

“I'm not avoiding you.”

He takes her hands between his. “I should probably tell you,” he says. “I'm not very good at it, but I'll try.” He takes a deep breath, looks into her eyes and says “I love you, Amy Pond.”

“Thanks,” she says, but she doesn't really mean it.

 

“I think we should leave,” she tells Rory.

“What? Why?” Even Rory loves being with the Doctor. Who wouldn't?

“I think it's time we settled down,” she lies. “Maybe we could start thinking about children.” It is one of her finest lies, perfectly crafted to appeal to him.

“Seriously? It's not one of those days where you do practical jokes on people, is it?”

“Isn't that what you want? The settling for a baby thing, I mean.”

“Yeah, but I didn't think we'd be leaving so soon.” He looks at her carefully. “Has something happened? Have you had an argument with the Doctor or something?”

“No. I think I've just out-grown him, that's all. And I do want to get started on being properly married in a house that doesn't travel in time.”

 

It's a week after she and Rory leave that she starts to wonder. Did he _make_ her leave? Did he... but no, he wouldn't. He's the Doctor, he's not like her.

He's _nice_.


End file.
